Sunday, April 3, 2011

lace and cotton conforms to every move,perspiration holds them closely, submerged in its saltiness. In a Spanish-style patio,ferns at my elbows brushing gently on my skin,geraniums and marigolds bend, weeping with lightness.Walls are prominent, I’m encapsulated by tiles, I can feel coolness seep into my skin.Talavera patterns, robust colours painted by endued hands,glazed with a sheen to withstand the years, I place my bare feet on them; a chill surges through me but the sun warms my desolation. A refreshing dip in the garden’s fountain … hidden from the world’s view.

I entertain the thought, but I wouldn't actually do it, Stan. The architecture here dates back to the 1600's (Spanish and some French influence)Huge courtyards, gorgeous, expansive, wooden doors, just beautiful.